Cure for the S3 Blues
by Desslok
Summary: A series of "what-if" stories based on the missed opportunities in S3 for Jim and Pam.
1. The Initiation

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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Okay, bye Ryan," Pam said, covering the receiver with one hand.

Jim stopped his monologue about kitchens and the optimal number one needs. "Ryan's there this late?" he asked, intrigued. "What's that about?"

"I don't know," Pam replied slowly, "Dwight took him on his first sales call, but they were gone a really long time and..."

"Oh. My. God. Pam. Please tell me that Ryan wasn't covered in dirt or hay or anything like that."

Pam's heart began to race with an excitement she hadn't felt since the last time they had planned a prank together. "Yeah, he did look a bit, I don't know, bedraggled?" She could hear him laughing quietly on the other end and suddenly he didn't seem quite so far away. "What? What did Dwight do to him?"

As Jim began to describe the "initiation" that Dwight had tried to put him through on his first sales call, Pam decided to make herself more comfortable. She could feel the weeks of loneliness, separation, the sheer weight of 'Jim-is-gone' dropping from her shoulders. She shrugged off her jacket onto the back of her chair and leaned back, moving the receiver from one side to other.

"Hey, do you mind if I put you on speaker? Everyone's gone and my arm's getting a little sore."

"Sure, that's fine. I mean, yeah. I guess we've been talking a while. You don't need to... you know.. go or anything? I don't want to keep you."

"No! No. Jim, really, I... This is nice." A shy smile crept over her. "I've really missed this," she added softly.

"Me too, Beesley." His voice became more quiet. "I've really missed... it."

"So, how was your big date?" he finally asked.

She could hear the tinge in his voice. It was funny how for so many years, she trained herself to ignore the signs, the emotions in his eyes, the way his tone would change slightly or how sometimes his whole body just seemed to collapse in on itself when she was with Roy, when she pushed too close to that line that she or he had drawn, when one or both let their guard down for just a bit too long and then suddenly remembered what they were, or more importantly, what they weren't. She'd spent the weeks since he left making herself remember: the Dundies, Halloween, the Jinx, Michael's birthday, the cruise. Night after lonely night she went over the moments again and again in her head. Now, when she heard it happening, she wouldn't let herself ignore it.

"What? How did you? Michael."

"He mentioned it when he had you on the phone at the convention," Jim replied, trying to sound casual. "Hey, good for you Beesley, I..."

"It was horrible," she interrupted quickly. He had to know. She couldn't let him think that... let him think what he seemed to be thinking. "Kelly kept bugging me and I ran out of excuses and it was just horrible. He was boring; he kept staring down my shirt; he just wasn't..."

"Oh, yeah, well. Sorry to hear that."

Pam failed to identify any trace of sorrow in his tone.

She didn't reply and he didn't continue. The mood had changed, and they both could sense it. The silence stretched on for 10 seconds, 20, almost 30.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered finally.

Pam felt the tears welling up. She'd only ever heard that tone in his voice once, the last time she saw him, and it was burned into her like a brand, like a mark of shame. She tried to keep her own voice even, but knew it was pointless. He knew her too well. He always had and that just made it worse.

"I wanted to, Jim. I did. But, you'd left and I'd...," she took a deep breath, trying to hold it together. Her cheeks were damp, but she didn't want her voice to break because if it did, she didn't think she'd ever get it back. "...and I was the one who drove you away. I felt like all I'd ever done is make you sad and maybe you were better off without..."

"Pam"

"...and it was awful with his family and my family, and everyone always staring at me and whispering, and all I wanted was to talk to you about it, 'cause you were my best friend, but then I wanted more than that, but you were gone and I was so alone and I'd never been alone like that, ever...and every day I'd come in and you weren't here and it was my fault..."

"Pam"

"...and I felt like I deserved it for what I'd done to Roy, what I'd done to you, what I'd done to myself. I don't deserve to be happy."

And there it was.

The words stopped, even as her tears flowed more strongly. She felt completely and utterly empty inside. She thought he'd jump in and tell her how wrong she was, but he didn't say anything right away. After another moment, she thought that maybe he agreed with her. Maybe he was smiling, relishing getting back at her for some of the pain she'd caused him. But then she knew that wasn't Jim. That wasn't...

"Jim?"

"So, Beesley." he began, in what anyone else would have thought a casual tone. She knew better though. There was a edge there and she began to feel something welling up to fill the void deep inside.

"Mmm?" she managed.

"Despite your really awful understanding of the geography of the northeastern United States, or of time zones at least, by my calculations I am about 150 miles from where you are sitting right now."

She sniffled and reached over her desk to grab a tissue. "Ok."

"So, you should have about 2 hours."

Her heart leapt inside her chest. Was he really? She stifled a giggle. "To do what?"

"I'm guessing you might want to go to your fancy new apartment, past your one measly kitchen, to your one small bedroom and/or bathroom, and get changed, maybe freshen up a little. I mean, you do sound a bit frazzled."

"Ok, two hours should be enough time to do that. Then what?" She stood up and pulled her coat back on.

"Well, then you have a date, Beesley. And, while I think I can promise it will not be boring, I'm not sure I can say the same about blouse-related glances."

This time, she didn't manage to catch the giggle and a hundred and fifty miles away, another heart flared back to life.


	2. The Merger

He saw her in the rear view mirror, walking to her car and quickly got out of the conversation he's in. He was still trying to process what happened earlier, what it all meant. He'd spent so much time imagining what would happen, ever since he decided to come back to Scranton, but, of course, nothing had gone as planned. Did it ever, with her?

She couldn't. So he left. Better for both of them really. What other alternatives were there? He'd tried to start over. He had. New apartment, new office, new co-workers, heck, a new type of sandwich. There was even a pretty girl. She wasn't _her_ but, then again, who else was? Still, she was fun, smart, attractive, though not in the way he usually thought of as 'his type.'

When she didn't call or email to let him know, he took that as the final sign. He'd given her space, gotten out of her way. Otherwise, it would have just been awkward and painful for both of them. But then, she left _him_, just a few days before _the_ day. He heard about it the next day, from three different people, but never from her. So, that was it. Time to pick up the pieces, again, and try to move on.

He'd been doing rather well, actually, until the phone call. Awkward at first, and definitely painful, but not for long. They fell back into their old relationship so easily. He'd never been able to speak with anyone so easily, for so long. And, just as typically, it had ended in confusion, odd silences, half-words, and uncertainty. Different medium, same story.

They'd done their thing in person, then on the phone, so the text message shouldn't have surprised him, but it did anyway. For some reason, maybe the hangover, maybe the vague memory of a kind ride home, it was easier to ignore it this time. The lack of any follow-up confirmed what he already knew. Time to pick up the pieces, again, and try to move on.

Now, here he was, dragged back by cruel fate (or the manipulations of a documentary director desperate for ratings gold) to lovely Dunder Mifflin Scranton. To this parking lot, where he had oh so many lovely memories.

The hug, he got. Wouldn't expect anything less, especially with the cameras rolling, and it i_was/i_ really good to see her again. The coffee invitation had been a bit more troubling. What did that mean? Months with nothing but a random accidental phone call, which he'd initiated, and one mundane text message, then that?

And he hated how much he hoped. How could he ever get through this, get over this, when just a stupid invitation for coffee made his heart race, made his palms sweat, left him sifting over every inflection in his head for the rest of the day. This was ridiculous. He was kinda sorta seeing Karen now anyway. Sure, one date and a kiss at the door didn't come close to what he'd shared with _her_… but actually, it did. One date (that she denied was a date,) one kiss in the office, well two, if you counted the Dundies (which he went back and forth on), and that was the extent of Jim's relationship with Pam, officially. The years of fantasizing and planning and dreaming and wishing didn't actually count.

He couldn't just leave things like this, though. He had to know something more. Maybe they could just go back to their friendship. That friendship, though, was always colored by his unspoken feelings for her and for the feelings he'd let himself believe she might have for him. If those were gone, what was left? The pranks?

--

It wasn't fair of him. Jim knew that. Testing her was childish at best, cruel at worst, or it would have been, if she'd cared. He didn't know why he said it. Correction. (God, now he was thinking like Dwight, after only one day back.) He knew why he said it, but he hadn't planned to say it. Was it even true? Karen waited for his call, waited for him to join her for a drink. That counted as 'seeing someone,' he supposed. All this, in the instant after the words left his lips and he waited to see if she even cared. She didn't. As he'd feared, suspected, known, she just wanted her friend back. Someone to help with the boredom, someone to help waste the tedious hours, that's all. He couldn't help himself. He hadn't meant for her to hear him, to even speak it aloud. Even if he had meant to say it, he'd never have indulged the bitterness in his tone. Would he?

It just slipped out, but once it did, everything changed.

"Yeah, right, friends. Great."

--

She spun quickly and her eyes blazed in a way he'd rarely if ever seen, especially directed at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Jim?"

"What?"

"'Yeah, right, friends, great,'" she mocked, "I mean it, Jim, what the hell?"

Anger? Really? _She_ was going to be angry at _him_?!

"I'm sorry, isn't that what you just said to me," he fired back. Had he ever lost his temper with her? When she was actually there with him? He didn't know, but suddenly it felt kind of good. "'Friends, we'll always be friends, just friends.'"

"I didn't say that!"

"Didn't you? 'Cause that's what I heard, Pam, and I think I'd know, since I'm kinda used to hearing that from you. Oh, I'm sorry, or am I 'misinterpreting' our friendship. I'm always going off and doing that. I don't know what the hell you want from me, Pam, or what you expect me to do, but I'm not going back to that life."

She didn't speak though he could see a hundred replies flashing across her face.

"I won't do it, Pam," he went on, no longer yelling but still dripping bitterness, "not again. I can't." He almost smiled at the irony.

"You can't be my friend?" she finally asked, in a hoarse whisper.

Jim sighed. He never had done "angry" well and it was especially difficult to do it at her. "I… I don't think I can."

"Because of her?"

"Who? Karen? It has nothing to do with her. Geez, Pam, for all that we were 'best friends' do you really not know me at all?"

Suddenly, her anger flared back to life, even as his was dissipating into misery.

"How the hell could I, Jim? Do you ever tell me anything? All that time you supposedly loved me, did you ever tell me? No, not until the very end. The day before you were planning to leave, you drop that on me out of nowhere and then run off before I can…"

"Don't you dare tell me I didn't love you!" he shouted back, temper returning. "I put everything I had out there, twice, and you shot me down, twice. You told me you were going to marry him! What did you expect, that I'd just say, 'Ok, let's pull a prank on Dwight when you get back from your honeymoon.'?"

_**"What do you want from me!?"**_

The words bounced against each other in the cool night air as they both shouted them simultaneously.

They stared at each other, breathing heavy, cheeks moist, fists clenched.

He saw it in her eyes first, though it came to him almost at the same time. At first, he tried to stay angry. He could see that she was doing the same. But, it was there.

He shook his head slightly.

_Don't._

The little spark grew, though she was trying to fight it.

He tried to keep the thought out. He tried to hold onto his rage, but the thought was there now. He could feel it, and worse, he knew she'd be able to see it there.

_I'm warning you, Beesley. You can't do this. Not here. Not now._

Then, her eyebrow arched just a fraction, a gesture he knew all too well. He couldn't stop himself from smiling, just a little.

"Jinx," she said tentatively. "You owe me a Coke."

Her body sagged a bit as the anger flowed away into the ground, replaced by a new kind of nervous tension.

And there it was.

She waited. It was up to him now. He still wasn't sure exactly what the options were, but he knew which option was no longer on the table.

Silently, he pulled a dollar out of his wallet and gestured back toward the building. She nodded and he set off for the door. He couldn't be certain, but it almost sounded like, behind him, she was skipping.


	3. The Return

Oscar's "Welcome Back Fiesta" had migrated mostly out into the main office, providing Jim Halpert with some much needed solitude. He sat, hunched over, staring unseeingly at the front of the room. Every single time, each and every one, every time that he finally began to think he'd figured things out and that he'd started to move on, something happened.

'Just when I think I'm out, she pulls me back in,' he paraphrased to himself with a detached amusement that never escaped onto his face.

He tried not to do it, but he couldn't help it. For years and years, he'd spent hours each day reading the hidden meanings into every event in the office. Did it have to mean anything that Karen had refused to help him out with Andy? She was just busy, that's all. He knew it was incredibly unfair of him, but he couldn't stop thinking it:

_She always puts work ahead of fun, ahead of you. Cracking the codes to Dwight's client list was more important to her than helping you when you asked. She likes you, but her career comes first. She just doesn't get you._

The prank had worked well, too well truthfully. They were like a well-oiled machine, even after all this time. He barely even had to tell her what he wanted to do. She just knew. Since he'd been back, he couldn't remember her looking so happy, either.

_There was once. When you walked in the door for the first time and there she was and her eyes lit up and her smile was blinding and then she was hugging you and she smelled like strawberries and felt like home and you were both so happy for just that one single moment before you remembered._

He almost wished he could get the camera crew to show him the footage. He and Pam, in those ridiculous sombreros, examining the hole in the wall and just laughing together. In that moment, it was as if he'd never left, as if she'd said 'I can' instead and he'd stayed and helped her get past Roy and then finally, it had been their turn.

_What are you doing? Who are you trying to fool? Pam? If so, that's just petty. Karen? That's just cruel. Yourself? Pathetic._

--

She knew she should probably just leave it alone. Just ignore it. Let him have his nostalgia trip but then remind him tonight what he had with her. He was hers now, after all. But ignoring things was just not Karen's style. Karen had learned long ago that the way to get through life was to take it on, headfirst. No one was going to hand her anything. She needed to reach out and grab the things she wanted.

She watched him for a moment, sitting there alone, obviously in deep thought, and she could guess what was going on in his head. Still, she needed to hear him say it. She'd figured out early on that he didn't like confrontation, that he'd happily leave things unsaid or expect her to read his mind or his dopey expressions. She'd worked long and hard to change that about him, to make him grow up and share his thoughts openly, like a man.

She moved in beside him swiftly and didn't hesitate.

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

She'd assumed he'd lie about it, but almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, his head started nodding up and down.

"Yes."

And there it was.

She could slap him, yell at him, humiliate herself in front of her boss and co-workers.

She could just walk away. She could save it for later, for late-night emotional conversations.

Or, she could just deal with it. She'd asked and at least he'd had the decency to be honest. Only after she'd asked, of course.

"I'm not going to play this game, Jim. This isn't high school This isn't a bad romance novel. I'm not going to try to compete with your memories. I care about you, but I deserve better than this. So, until you figure out once and for all what you want..." She was proud she made it that far, but now it was all rushing toward her and she knew she didn't dare stay any longer. With a fierce resolve not to break down in front of _these_ people, Karen marched out of the conference room, gathered her things, and left the office.

--

He knew he should try to chase her down, to take it back, to deny it, to beg her to stay and listen, to talk it out. He could see it all playing out in his head, but his body refused to cooperate and Jim just stayed there, staring at the floor.

It didn't surprise him when Pam came in a little while later. Somehow, he'd known she would. Unlike Karen, Pam came in tentatively and when she sat down next to him, she didn't say a word. He knew she'd seen what happened. He realized now that this year must have been for her what the past few had been for him, forever watching from a distance, watching and waiting and wondering. She had to guess what it meant when Karen stormed off like she had without a word to anyone. Still, though, she waited quietly, just sitting nearby, offering, but not asking anything of him.

--

She wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but she knew when something was wrong. Until now, today had been wonderful. She knew she wasn't his first choice to get back at Andy and that did hurt, but as soon as she'd said 'Yes' and his eyes had lit up, it hadn't mattered any more. Working with him, then laughing about it together later, she remembered how wonderful their friendship had been, how simply right the world was when they were together like that. She knew now that she wanted more, but if she couldn't have that, then she could at least be happy with this, if this was all he could offer.

Pam had seen him, of course, earlier. These days she always knew where he was when he was in the office. He looked upset and she yearned to go in there and talk to him, but something stopped her. He probably felt guilty, regretted sharing that prank with her instead of Karen. If that's how he felt, then she'd only make it worse by going to him. In fact, as she expected, Karen herself went in after only a few minutes. Pam knew Karen wasn't the type to simply let Jim be, especially after today.

She watched discretely as Karen said something and Jim nodded and then Karen said something else. Then, Karen left, looking upset. Thus far, this was essentially what Pam had expected, but then Karen grabbed her purse and her coat and then glared at her with such... well, hatred... that Pam almost took a step back. And then Karen left, without another word to anyone.

Jim just sat there, staring at the floor, and he looked so alone and so...vulnerable... that she couldn't stand it any more. She went in, watching to see if she was welcome. When he didn't object to her presence, she took a seat next to him. Pam knew him well enough not to pry. He could have dismissed her with a look, a gesture, but he didn't, so she waited. It took awhile, but she would have waited all day.

When he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, he looked empty and lost and she could feel her heart breaking for him. She gently laid one of her hands on top of his and nodded encouragingly.

"I don't know who I am anymore, Pam," he whispered, his gaze falling back down to the ground. "I came back to Scranton, to this office, but I feel like a stranger in my own life."

She didn't interrupt, but squeezed his hand gently to reassure him. She wouldn't allow herself to start wondering what this meant or where it was leading. He needed her attention here and now, not wandering elsewhere.

"I really tried, Pam, I did. I keep trying, but I just can't get away from it," he continued, sounding utterly defeated. "For just that one moment today, everything suddenly felt right and then..."

The words stopped. She slid closer to him so that her side was pressed against his. He felt cold and she hoped that her presence would warm him a little. She didn't know if this was the right time and she wondered if she was just being selfish, but he had to know. She owed him that much.

"Jim, I know a lot has happened," she began cautiously, "and we've both said and done some things. Worse, we've not said and not done even more. I don't know what she said to you or what you said to her. I'm not trying to mess you up, but..."

She took a deep breath and started again."I just want you to know that I care about you, Jim, and I'm here for you. If that can only be as a friend, then I'll just deal with that, because I can't imagine my life without you in it, somewhere. I don't want to. I love you, Jim."

Slowly, he looked up at her and she could see the thoughts and emotions in his eyes: regret, sadness, hope, and a lot of confusion. She'd said a lot of words, but she suddenly knew she still wasn't being completely honest with him.

"I love you, Jim," she repeated, "but I'm also in love with you. I have been for a long time now." The tears fell freely now and Pam heard herself sniffle. He'd gotten away with just one tear, but apparently her eyes were a bit more forthcoming.

He just stared at her. Quickly, she stood and tore her gaze from his. "I'm sorry, I know that's.."

Jim rose as well and took her hands in his. "... weird to hear," he finished her sentence. The light was back in his eyes and a small smile was forming. "Yeah, and the timing really isn't great." She choked out a small laugh amidst the tears. "But I don't think either of us is misinterpreting anything," he went on.

"We didn't the first time," she admitted softly. She looked up at him through misty eyes, her own smile tentatively joining his own, "Jim, I want to be more than that. Is that still possible?"

For a moment, he thought about pulling her close and showing her exactly how possible it was, when he remembered where they were. Instead, he took a hand in his and gently pulled her out into the office.

Jim grabbed his coat and gestured for Pam to do the same. "Michael, we're going on a tequila run, be back soon," he shouted.

"Okay, Jimbo! Get some with extra worms!"

On the roof a few minutes later, with the snow dancing and swirling around them, coating their hair and their skin, Jim and Pam gently began to explore the possibilities.


End file.
